Talents
by dashe
Summary: Sanji is a cook. Brook is a skeleton. This in itself creates a problem. Or, rather, it should.


"..."

It is Sanji's first time seeing Brook without his trademark tailcoat on. It also happens to be the first time he witnesses a tilapia and asparagus dinner going through a digestive system which no longer exists.

The skeleton does not seem to have noticed his fascinated revulsion. So Sanji coughs, never breaking his eye contact with the gooey mass circling around where the musician's innards would be. Apparently, tilapia turns a lovely shade of puce after passing through the lower esophageal sphincter.

"Hello there, Sanji!" Empty sockets turn to stare at him. Realizing where the cook's line of sight leads, Brook hastily throws on his tailcoat and opens his mouth, about to speak.

Sanji beats him to it. "No—wait. How do you do that?" Instantly, he feels foolish for asking such a question. Yes, as if the skeleton is able to control his bodily functions, can turn them on and off with a flip of a mental switch.

...Or can he?

"You mean to say digesting?" Brook chortles, a comfortingly familiar 'Yohoho!' that sets the blond at ease. "I may not have organs, but the Revive-Revive Fruit allows me to consume and pass food just like ordinary humans."

"I see." And Sanji does see—or at least, has seen. But he does not understand. "So basically your body functions regularly, at least in response to food, as though you still have a stomach and intestines and all that?" He is no longer so much nauseated as curious.

"Yes, that's a good way to explain it." Brook eyes (Skull joke—he has no eyes!) Sanji in what he thinks is a friendly manner, and nods to the spot on the deck next to him, a wordless invitation to sit down. Sanji does.

"But when you get hit, so long as they don't touch the bones, you suffer no damage?"

"That's right!" Brook laughs again. "An unexpected advantage of being a skeleton, that."

"Huh." It is Sanji's turn to eye him, an amused and intrigued quirk to his mouth. "And can you taste my food?" He refers to it in the possessive—he is proud and readily defensive of his creations, as is the case with people of his profession. Hearing a reply in the negative, while not necessaily insulting, would be at the least disappointing to him.

"Yes, in fact," Brook replies, pleased. "It came as a shock to myself, actually, after being on that ship for so long. I don't need to eat, as you know, but it is a pleasure to savor delicious sustenance, unnecessary though it is."

Sanji is quiet for a moment—partly because his ego has been inflated by that word 'delicious', and partly because it takes a few moments to wrap his mind around the idea of eating as purely a pleasure activity.

"That's...really cool," he murmurs, surprising himself by using such a...'Chopper-esque' term. But it is cool, and the pleased grin stretching across Brook's features makes it all the more worthwhile.

The excitement comes unbidden, and he suddenly finds himself running his mouth, babbling like a certain idiot. "Then—that means you don't have to worry about the nutrition or high-calorie foods. And you can focus completely on the taste and texture of the dish, instead of how filling it is! This is great, fantastic." He is mostly talking to himself now, and his voice drops to a mutter.

The skeleton beside him tilts his head and looks at him curiously. He is about to voice a question when the cook beats him to it with an exclamation.

"Hey!" Sanji's head jerks up, along with his hand. His finger jabs at the air in triumph. "Would you be my taster?"

Brook smiles, puzzled, but responds right away with an equally enthused, "Of course!" The two beam at each other for several seconds, and then Sanji leaps up. "Come on!" He rushes toward the ship's kitchen, and the other follows; partly bewildered, mostly intrigued.

"Here." In the kitchen, Sanji has already set out several plates. Meat dishes, vegetable soups, and even a quiche are on full display. It has been at least a week since they have restocked their pantry, and Brook once again admires the chef's talent for turning scraps into nothing less than a feast. It also occurs to him how envious Luffy would be if he were in his position at the moment.

He turns his attention back to the blond, who has relapsed into mutterings. "The quiche is especially rich, but it shouldn't be a problem for him...and even though he just ate, it's not like he can feel full, so that's not an issue either. I can't decide whether to add more salt to the onion soup, and it's great that I can get a second opinion on this... Same goes for the beef; is it too tough, or just tender enough? I don't want to make it soft to the point of being mushy..."

Sanji finally looks up, and gestures for the skeleton to sit down. "Please try the beef steak first."

Brook takes the chair gracefully. He picks up a fork and complies, spearing off a hunk of the meat and popping it into his mouth. He chews.

The cook waits for him to swallow, then bombards him with questions. "Is it too tender? No, right? It's probably too tough. And what about the flavor? I experimented a little with this one and used my own blend of spices—there's some rosemary, a pinch of saffron, and I forgot if it was basil or pepper that I added as well..."

"The texture is just right. It seems as though you added basil, but you probably would have done better to add pepper instead." Brook is pleased with the questions. He knows that he has a place on the ship, in the crew; he is their musician and second swordsman. But it's a nice surprise to find that he can be even more useful, that he has even more talents that can be exploited.

Sanji is writing his answer down, nodding and commiting his opinion to memory—seeing this, the skeleton puffs up with pride. He knows that cooking is important to the man, something that he wouldn't change for just anybody. It amazes him to think that his advice has such an impact.

At last Sanji looks up at Brook. He flashes him a smile, tucking the notepad away and hurrying back to the stove. "Great! Thanks. I'll fix that right away. Now would you taste the quiche lorraine as well? And the onion soup after that—if you're not too busy, of course," he amends hastily.

"Not at all," the musician replies, his mouth already full with the savory pastry.

It was in this manner that a daily routine began between the two of them, one which both of them looked forward to almost as much as dinnertime, when Sanji would unveil the creations that Brook had helped perfect.

-end-


End file.
